


enjoy your life

by royalteruki



Category: Mob Psycho 100, モブサイコ100 | Mob Psycho 100
Genre: Absent Parents, Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Arson, Child Neglect, Comfort, Fluff, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mogamiland, Music, Post-Mogami Arc (Mob Psycho 100), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychic Abilities, Scars, Self-Acceptance, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Slice of Life, Suicidal Thoughts, TeruMob, Violent Thoughts, ritshou
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-05-13 23:44:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19261582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/royalteruki/pseuds/royalteruki
Summary: Four friends going through different things find comfort in each other's company.





	1. tied together with a smile

“I’ve got to leave now, Shou.”

“Alright, mom.”

“I’ll see you tonight, okay?” His mother is at the door, waving goodbye. “I love you.”

Shou takes a quiet breath in, focuses the energy beneath his skin and looks to his mother with the brightest smile he can muster. “Love you too!”

Then she leaves and he’s left in complete silence.

Shou almost wishes she would stay. With her gone, he has more time on his hands than he can be held accountable for. More time for things to go wrong. For him to be mad at his dad, himself, and everything in between.

Contrary to popular belief, he is anything but calm.

Toichiro had been stopped, but what’s Shou left with? The empty feeling nagging at him? The acceptance that he’s the same as his father, destined to be controlled by his own abilities and thirst for power?

Shou hops off his seat, his feet pounding against the carpeted floors as he rushes up the stairs to his room. Shaky hands close the door behind him. He’s supposed to meet Ritsu today, but he has some time before then and the Feeling has been itching at him since last night.

He’d managed to shake it off when he was laying in bed then. The darkness around him seemed to hug him and squeeze the tears out of him. The more he cried, the more he felt tired. The more the Feeling nagged at him. The more he didn’t have the energy to get up and comply.

Contrary to popular belief, today is not a new day. It’s just an extension of the night before and the Feeling won’t go away unless he does something about it.

Shou beelines into his bathroom and opens his cupboard, moving a couple of boxes in search for the one. He takes it out from the farthest corner, from the place nobody has ever thought to look. Ironically, the box is made out of cardboard and inside it, there’s a new pack of matches. He would find it funny if he didn’t already know what happens next.

The new house he lives in provides him with his own room and his own bathroom where he can keep his own secrets. Even if it didn’t, his mother wouldn’t look through his stuff anyway. She respects his privacy too much and he hates that the most about her.

He sits down on his knees, the carpet rubbing against his jeans. There’s a bowl of water in front of him and the box of matches in his hands. His heart is racing in anticipation. The kinetic energy flowing beneath his skin and pumping through his body is almost overwhelming.

Minutes go by. He’s losing the feeling in his legs, pins and needles pricking his skin. The box of matches is still in his hand. He feels like he’s going to puke, but the Feeling is worse. He feels like the walls are caving in, but the Feeling has him by the throat. It’s hurting his head. He’s thinking he has Ritsu now, so why is he still doing this to himself? He’s thinking he did so well last night, so why is he relapsing now? He’s thinking he thought the Feeling was finally starting to go away, so why is it back?

He lights the match.

Contrary to popular belief, fire on his skin is not hot. It’s cold, it’s freezing, and then it’s numb before he feels any kind of heat.

Shou hisses and cries out, but his mom isn’t there. Nobody is there to hear him. His thoughts remind him that if anyone really cares, they should be here right now, but they’re not because he doesn’t deserve it. One day, he’ll snap and become just like his father, so he doesn’t deserve it.

 _Plop!_  

He drops the match. It falls into the bowl.

_Pit-pat… pit-pat..._

Drops of blood follow. The fire gets lost in the foggy water and the blood droplets dance in it like they’re celebrating. Next come the tears that put the drops to rest.

He cries and holds his arm where the fresh wound is eating at his skin. His fingers wrap around the burn and squeeze. The skin blossoms with fleshy shades of browns and reds. He suddenly wants to feel anything but the burning sensation. His bed, dresser and the bowl of water float a few inches up off the ground as he sobs.

As always, the Feeling wins.

He stays like that for a couple of minutes before the furniture drops back onto the ground. The floor beneath him rattles with the weight of it and his emotions. Through shaky breaths, he stumbles to the nearest sink where he treats the wound and bandages himself up.

The Feeling leaves for the time being.

When the burn is finally covered, he’s calm. He puts his box away, pours the smoky water down the drain and gets ready for the day. He’s running out of bandages. He’s still supposed to meet Ritsu today. Maybe Ritsu will have some.

 

 

 

“So, how did it go?”

Dimple appears while Mob is walking home from the patch of grass near his school. He’s sporting some grass stains from sitting under a tree with Tsubomi. At the question, the young esper doesn’t even blink. He continues walking.

“No way! Did she reject you? Even after you serenaded her?” Dimple is perplexed, “I thought all girls were into that stuff.”

Mob keeps his gaze levelled, clenching his ukelele in one hand. He doesn’t stop walking, his arms barely swaying.

“Don’t worry, Shigeo,” The spirit singsongs. “If you need a shoulder to cry on, I’m here for you.”

Mob glances to Dimple, who doesn’t have any shoulders, but he thinks it’s the thought that counts.

“I hope you don’t think your song was bad. Hanazawa helped you write it and even he said it was fantastic!” Dimple grins wide and shoots the young esper two thumbs up.

Mob reminds himself to thank Teru again later. Maybe he’ll be able to see him tomorrow after school. _Today is the day I’m going to sing Tsubomi’s song to her_ , he had told him. _Sorry, I won’t be able to walk home with you._

“Come on, Mob! Let me know what’s on your mind!”

Mob stops so abruptly that Dimple has to backtrack. He doesn’t look to the spirit this time. Instead, his dark eyes stare straight ahead as if he has some kind of audience. Dimple's still trying to understand him.

“I didn’t know Tsubomi as well as I thought I did.”

Dimple's perplexed for the second time. Ever since he’s met Mob, Tsubomi has been his crush. What changed within the span of just ten minutes?

“I think all this time I’ve created an image of her in my head that I’ve fantasized about, but she’s nothing like the person I imagined holding hands with. I made her out to be something she’s not. I think I’m still looking for that person. I think that’s okay.”

Mob continues walking, his steps carefully calculated so as not to step on any cracks in the sidewalk. He doesn’t have to look to know where they are. The sun shines above him and his ukelele strings dig into his skin, but he keeps walking. His uniform feels hot against his skin, but he keeps walking.

Dimple is left staring at his back.

Then he follows without another word.


	2. sing to me instead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> before we start i just wanna say a huge thank you to all my friends who beta read these chapters for me all the time.. y'all are the absolute best thank you for supporting me <3

“Do you ever feel content?”

Ritsu lifts his head from where it was buried in math homework. Shou’s been so quiet and he’s been so focused on his algebra questions that he forgot they’re in the same room. The irritation he feels from having his studies interrupted is quickly replaced with confusion. “What do you mean?”

Shou doesn’t expect to be asked to elaborate, so he lulls over it in his head before responding: “Like, everything in your life is set in stone. You have your family, you know who your friends are and you know what you’re capable of. So now it’s just a matter of living your life.”

This is where Ritsu and Shou can’t relate. Shou seems to know just about everything about himself while Ritsu can barely remember his own favourite colour. His powers were just awakened a little over a month ago and he has yet to use them to their full extent. Not to mention the new people that he’s met because of them.

“Not really,” Ritsu replies, beginning to doodle on the corner of his page. He’s anticipating another remark from Shou but when he hears nothing, he turns around to scan his room. “Shou? Where did you go?”

“I’m right here,” Shou abruptly reappears next to his chair, looming over him. Ritsu jumps out of his seat, startled like a cat, and curses the other’s name.

Shou’s used to his paranoia by now, so it doesn’t phase him. He takes Ritsu’s seat and picks up his pencil, continuing his unfinished doodle on the page.

Though Ritsu wants to do his homework, he feels like the conversation hasn’t reached a natural finish. It’s unsettling, so he asks another question: “What’s so bad about having your life figured out?”

It’s Shou’s turn to be confused. Did he stutter? Why doesn’t Ritsu understand where he’s coming from? They’re best friends, aren’t they? The miscommunication sparks an irritation similar to Ritsu’s inside of him, but he pushes it away in favour of a response.

“It feels like settling?” Shou unintentionally sounds like he’s asking a question. “Everything’s figured out now, so I’m just waiting to die and start another life.”

Ritsu furrows his eyebrows. He isn’t a stranger to feeling sad or alone, but Shou’s thoughts are concerning. Why bring something like this up now? What triggered it?

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Shou replies so curtly it’s as if he predicted Ritsu’s question. “Are _you_ okay?”

“Yeah. But—”

“Good.”

Shou’s heart is beating fast again. He knows better than to be so blunt about his feelings. It’s his fault for thinking Ritsu would ever understand. This battle is his and his alone, he realizes. And he can’t rely on others for help.

“I’ll let you get back to your boring homework now.”

“Shou, wait.”

“What?” Shou shoots, looking to Ritsu with his icy blue hues. Ritsu’s startled again. Whenever he’s met with those cold eyes, he feels like they can see right through him. They bear into him like they’re flipping the pages of the book that’s his mind.

“The homework can wait,” Ritsu finally says, reminding himself of his brother. He decides that’s not a bad thing and continues: “If you want, the homework can wait. I know I always make you sit while I finish but maybe we should…”

“Talk?” Shou guesses, his gaze softening at the suggestion.

“... Yeah.”

And it’s the first time they do since everything that’s happened.

 

 

 

“Sing it to me,” Teruki prompts Shigeo, who’s sporting a pink tint on his cheeks.

“But it’s Tsubomi’s song.”

Hanazawa’s apartment is quiet save for the few chords that Mob has been experimenting with. They’re sitting on his unmade bed, he has his ukulele in his hands and Teru is leaning against the wall. This is their place, where they can be alone without any distractions or judgements. Although Mob doesn’t mind letting Ritsu hear his music every once in a while, he likes to have moments when he doesn’t have to worry about being overheard. During these occasions, Teru is thankful his parents aren’t around so they won’t have anything to say about him having a boy over.

But Mob isn’t just any boy and when Teru receives word that Tsubomi rejected him, he’s about ready to scoop the other esper up into his arms himself. “It _was_ Tsubomi’s song. But she doesn’t want it, so sing it to me instead.”

Mob hesitates. He puts his fingers into position on his strings and plays the opening chord, but stops.

“It’s okay, take your time,” Teru says, knowing Mob is still getting the hang of the ukulele. The bandages wrapped around most of his fingers is proof of that fact.

Mob starts again, managing to catch the tune and hold onto it through the first verse. When he sings, his voice is barely louder than a mumble. Teruki closes his eyes and listens.

 

_I know we haven’t talked much before_

_I know we don’t know each other that well_

_But would it be so bad_

_To want to take your hand_

_And walk home with you?_

 

He clears his throat as it starts to close up. It’s dry and scratchy, so he carefully puts down his ukulele to pick up the glass of water that Teru had given him when he first arrived. He downs half of it and Teru takes the opportunity to open one eye to watch him but closes it as soon as he’s finished.

Mob returns to his position next to Teru and starts where he left off.

 

_I’ve been waiting for some time_

_To say what’s on my mind_

_Would it be so bad_

_To let it all out now?_

 

When Teru notices Mob losing the tempo, he starts to hum as guidance. Mob follows the tune of his humming as it glides through the air, around his head and into his ears. He continues to sing, grateful for the help.

 

_When you say good morning,_

_I can’t help but smile_

_When I see those eyes_

_I can’t help but wonder what’s behind them_

_Would it be so bad_

_To want to take your hand_

_And walk home with you?_

 

Mob starts losing the tempo again, so Teru takes it upon himself to sing along with him. Not having expected a duet, Mob is jarred at first, but it quickly grows on him. He’s always loved Teru’s voice and the way it always seems to compliment his chords. They sing the last part of the song together slowly. This allows for Mob to keep up with the chords he doesn’t know as well.

 

**_Would it be so bad_ **

**_To let it all out now?_ **

 

Teruki opens his eyes to watch Mob, who has his head hanging low and is watching his fingers dance along the strings. When he’d heard Tsubomi had rejected him, his first instinct was to be angry. Now, sitting here with a rather calm Mob, he starts to understand something. Mob isn’t angry because he’s happy. Mob is torn, but Mob understands that he deserves better than someone who isn’t impressed with how far he’s come. Mob doesn’t have to say it for Teru to know. Mob doesn’t have to say anything for Teru to admire him more and more with every second that passes.

 

**_Because I think together_ **

**_We could be better_ **

**_I think together_ **

**_We could be better_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> twitter: royalteruki  
> tumblr: royalteruki


	3. my eyes are red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dedicated to @cawnflour

The first time Shou sets something on fire that isn’t himself or the Kageyama household, the adrenaline goes straight to his head. The sun is setting and he’s on the outskirts of the city, watching an abandoned treehouse light up in flames. It crackles and pops, burning from the inside out. He thinks it’s beautiful. A creation that was once admired by some group of little kids had been tragically forgotten, and what better way to honour it than burning it to the ground?

 

_“It’s my destiny,” Shou’s father explains to his six-year-old son. “I’m much more powerful than anyone on this planet. I’m going to rule it.”_

_They’re looking out the window of their apartment where they have a view of the city. World domination is a topic that his father always talks about, especially when his mother isn’t around._

_“I want you to be my successor,” Though his father sounds happy, when Shou glances up at him he has the same stoic look on his face he always does._

_Before Shou can really think about it or ask any questions, he hears the door open and shut. He looks back to see his mother, who doesn’t look happy at all. She’s frowning. “Mommy?”_

_“Shou, sweetie,” She rushes forward to take his hand and stand between him and his father. This happens often, so she already knows what’s been going on in her absence. “What are you telling him this time? Why are you feeding him these ideas, Toichiro?”_

_“He needs to know what’s going to happen.”_

_“It’s not going to happen.”_

_As his parents argue, Shou looks between them. His mother is angry, but his father doesn’t look fazed. Whenever Toichirou talks to him about taking over the world, young Shou feels special. He feels useful. He wants to be a good son. But he knows hurting people is bad and he’s scared his father wants to hurt people. The possibilities and consequences of Toichirou's plan ping-pong off the inner walls of his skull, distressing his young brain. Young Shou is torn between the acceptance of his father and the safety of the city._

_He holds onto his mother’s hand tightly because it’s the only thing he has. His eyes close tight in an attempt to shut out the yelling and the chaos in his mind._

 

There are flames in Shou’s eyes. Is this the adrenaline his father used to feed off of? Is this what it feels like to have control?

He doesn’t snap out of it until he hears sirens in the distance. Grey clouds of ash pump out of the burning treehouse (and now the tree, as well) and into the sky above him. He looks up to watch it dance in the air. It’s spreading quickly.

The sirens are getting closer.

He panics and breaks into a full sprint away from the fire, dashing across the grass. His heart is beating in his ears as he runs into the city. He didn’t think about the police or being reported. For a moment, he’s even scared. He’s back to his six-year-old self and he’s mortified of what he’s done.

The farther Shou gets, the more his fears dissipate. The amount of damage he’s caused doesn’t occur to him because of the rush he feels while escaping; it’s better than anything he’s ever felt before. For the first time since he was a child, he actually feels something other than pain and fear. It’s the next best thing: power.

 

 

 

Once Shou gets home, it takes a full five minutes for the adrenaline to crash.

One. He hasn’t stopped running since he fled the crime scene. He rushes inside and closes the door behind him. His vision blurs momentarily. His house feels like another universe. The outside world is dangerous. Between these four walls, he’s safe. His mother won’t be home for a few more hours, so he makes his way to the stairs.

Two. His feet feel like weights attached to ends of the spaghetti that are his legs. He dreadfully makes his way up the steps, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. His fingers graze the wallpaper and tingle at the sensation of something stable, itching to burn it down. This house doesn’t feel like home anymore. It feels like a target. His target. The more he thinks about it, the lighter his head feels.

Three. The door to his room is so hard to open it might as well have been made out of bricks. Either that or his arms are weak. His hands are numb and he sways as he finally steps into his dimly lit room. There’s a lamp in the corner he forgot to turn off this morning. He makes sure his door is shut behind him before falling onto his bed. As he does, the adrenaline crashes, along with the strength he has left.

Four. He had done it. He had really did it. He had started a fire, one that's sure to have caught the attention of people by now. Had he left anything behind? Any proof or evidence that it had been him? Would the police be able to identify it as pyrokinesis? If so, could they trace it back to him? Had the fire spread? Had it injured or killed anyone? His stomach churns at the thought. Is he finally fulfilling his legacy and becoming like his father?

Five. He leaps off his bed and rockets into the bathroom, falling onto his knees in front of the open toilet. It’s a matter of seconds before he's heaving and the contents of his stomach are ejected into the toilet. Though his bathroom reeks of vomit, he doesn’t have the strength to stand up. Instead, he lays down on his bathroom floor and closes his eyes. Everything feels hot around him, but he doesn’t have it in himself to care.

Shou thinks he might be dying. If that’s the case, he keeps his eyes closed and welcomes it. He doesn’t mind, and he doesn’t think anyone else will either. Not even Ritsu, who deserves better anyway. That’s what would probably hurt the most of all when he dies. Shou deserves it, though. He’s done something bad and that means he should pay for it, no matter what the cost.

 

 

 

Shou wakes up before his mom gets home. He cleans up as best as he can, flushing the toilet and spraying a fresh scent in his bathroom, then moves himself to his bed. When his mother gets home and finds him sleeping early, she has every reason to be concerned.

“Shou, sweetheart?” She asks as she enters his room, which is clean save for a few articles of clothing on the floor. Despite being asleep, he still has his varsity jacket on. She smiles fondly, knowing he loves that old thing. “Long day?”

His mother sits on the edge of his bed and looks over him. She knows returning to school after everything that’s happened has been hard on him. No doubt there are people at his school that know about his father and children aren’t always nice about these things.

She feels his forehead with the back of her hand. He’s burning hot. Frowning, she moves the covers off of him and exits the room. While she’s gone, Shou shifts in his bed and gradually opens his eyes. He catches sight of the ceiling and his lamp still on beside him, but other than that, he’s out of it. Is he dead?

His mother enters again, unknowingly answering his question. “Mom…”

“Hey, how are you feeling?” She sits on the edge of his bed again and puts her supplies on his bedside table. A bowl of cold water, a cloth, a glass of water and some medicine. “You have a fever.”

“Sorry,” Shou croaks.

His mother pauses from where she’s dipping the cloth into the cold water. She looks to him with a gentle expression and says, “There’s nothing to be sorry for, honey. It’s okay.”

As she gets him to sit up to take his medicine and lays the damp cloth on his forehead, Shou feels his heart swell in his chest. His mother doesn’t ask any questions. She doesn’t want to interrogate him. All she wants is to keep him safe. That’s all she’s ever wanted, even if she's been pretty bad at it in the past.

“It’s okay,” Shou repeats quietly when he lays down again as if to forgive her.

“That’s right.” She leans down to press a kiss to his cheek. “It’s always okay. Now get some rest.”

 

 

 

Shou sleeps for days before he feels better again. There isn’t a night that goes by where his mother doesn’t remind him that it’s okay. Though he knows it’s not, it’s nice to hear someone say so.

He promises her that he’s getting his homework from a friend. In reality, he’s never told her he doesn’t go to school. If the institution has ever contacted her, she’s either missed the call or been too busy to check her messages. It’s not something Shou looks forward to, anyway.

One night, she asks if he wants to take off his jacket. He tells her no, and she never asks again. Only when he’s completely sure she’s gone for work does he take it off and let it hang off the edge of his bed while he sleeps. It’s refreshing not to be stuck underneath that thick fabric, but he always seems to go back to it no matter how suffocating it feels.

It's good to be stuck in a routine in which he’s too sick to hurt himself but not sick enough to be dying. He feels weak, but he’s grateful for it because it keeps him from doing stupid things. Though he dreads its end, he’s excited when he starts to feel better. Destruction's a part of him. To be able to do it again makes him feel whole. Is that so wrong?

He doesn't think so. He never has.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaa sorry for the late upload guys, im still on vacation and things have been hectic :')
> 
> twitter: royalteruki  
> tumblr: royalteruki


	4. what's on tv

Ritsu makes it a habit to watch the news every evening, wanting to keep up with the things going on in Seasoning City. Not only does he think it’s intelligent to do so, but it gives him a grander voice during school council meetings. The way he sees it, someone who’s educated about what’s happening outside their school is more accountable inside their school too.

Since the destruction of the city, every night has mostly been the same. He’ll sit down on the couch and turn the television on and his brother will follow a couple of minutes later for his evening glass of milk. They try to spend at least a couple of moments in the evening together to catch up while the news plays in the background. Tonight, the usual update on the city’s reconstruction is playing when Mob pads down the stairs. The sun is completely gone and the moon takes its place in the night sky; the living room is dark save for the light from the TV.

“Hello, Ritsu,” Mob sounds rather cheerful. Ritsu turns his attention away from the boring broadcast to look back at him as he rummages through the fridge.

“Hey, Nii-san,” Ritsu has been feeling less uneasy around his older brother lately. He thinks it’s due to everything they’ve been through and their newfound psychic solidarity. Since his own powers had been awakened, he can’t help but feel a stronger bond with his brother. “How did things go with Tsubomi?”

Mob pours himself a glass of milk. “She said no.”

Ritsu looks back and sees that Mob isn’t sulking despite being rejected. In fact, he looks kind of giddy, so Ritsu gives a simple response: “Oh, I see.”

“What’s on the TV?” Mob asks, even though he already knows.

Ritsu turns back to the screen. “Just the news. The city is almost restored. They’re adding some new stuff too. I think they’re making a few more MobDonald’s places,” he answers, even though he knows Mob already knows.

Just as his older brother joins him, the news story switches to something more interesting and a bit disturbing. A news anchor is standing a few metres away from the aftermath of a fire. The trees behind her are charred and the grass is blackened to a crisp. Pieces of wood line what used to be a beautiful green forest just outside the city.

“Thanks for the update, Akari. I’m reporting from just outside of Seasoning City where a fire broke out just a few hours ago. Luckily, firefighters were on the scene early enough to stop it before it spread into the downtown area. Police have not released a statement yet, but there has been word that it was not a wildfire. No suspects have been named and there were no injuries. More on this story tomorrow morning at 8 am. Thank you for tuning into our evening news report and we’ll see you back at the station bright and early tomorrow.”

Wordlessly, Ritsu and Mob sit and listen to the report. They watch as a slideshow of pictures and videos of the fire play on the screen. Save for the television and a few sips of milk from Mob’s end, there’s barely any sound between them. Ritsu looks down at his lap, unsettled at the idea of a potential arsonist in Seasoning City, a place where crimes usually don’t happen apart from the occasional psychic phenomenon or con-man being exposed. The city is usually peaceful and unproblematic.

“An  _ arsonist _ ? In Seasoning City?” Ritsu questions after turning the television off. He looks to Mob, who still doesn’t seem fazed. “What do you think that means?”

Ritsu catches Mob during a particularly large gulp of milk. His older brother has a look on his face that communicates he doesn’t really understand the significance of his question. If he’s uncomfortable with the idea of someone going around and setting fires to random establishments, he doesn’t show it. He swallows before speaking: “I don’t think it’s anything to worry about, Ritsu.”

Ritsu sits back in his seat, his dark eyes turning to the black television screen. Although the fire hadn’t happened anywhere near them and there hadn’t been any casualties, he can’t shake the fear he feels deep in his chest.

“I guess so.” Ritsu puts the remote down on the table and stands up. He doesn’t want to make it seem like he doesn’t trust his brother. “Well, I think I’m going to bed then. Goodnight, Nii-san.”

Mob holds his cup, which is almost empty. He gives his brother a full smile. “Goodnight, Ritsu.”

Ritsu pads up to his bedroom, his feet so fast on the steps that he doesn’t feel them make contact with the floor. When he slips under his covers, he finds himself staring at the ceiling. He thinks of Shou, he remembers his house in flames and he feels a shiver run up his spine at the thought of an arsonist loose in his city. He’s watched many of his loved ones get hurt and his belongings be destroyed in the past month: his brother, his house, the city, even Shou. Everything he's ever known has been twisted and needed fixing. People with that kind of malicious intent and power, people like Touichirou, could cause a lot of damage if they aren’t careful.

He doesn’t want to think about it, but he has no control over his mind racing at a thousand miles per hour. He feels like he’s in the middle of a marathon, one that’s just him and the person he thinks is watching him, even though he’s laying in bed, safe in his room. All he’s doing is  _ thinking _ , but he’s exhausted.  _ Who could be doing this to such a peaceful city? Why are they doing it? What’s their motive? Can’t they ever have some peace and quiet without someone ruining it for everyone? _

He turns onto his side, but when he feels like someone is behind him, he's forced to lay on his back again. His hands are sweaty and his throat is dry. He’s fully convinced that if he closes his eyes to go to bed, he’ll wake up to his house in ruins, or something happening to his family. In order to protect them, he needs to stay awake. If he goes to bed and the arsonist burns down their house, how will he ever be able to forgive himself? It’s a stretch, but it’s very real in his mind, to the point where his heart is thumping loudly in his ears and refuses to let him sleep.

Ritsu is startled by the wind outside when it lets out a high-pitched squeal. He stands to secure his window shut, blocking out the sound of the breeze. His room goes dead silent.

Even though there aren’t enough details yet to come to a solid conclusion, he can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t right.

Ritsu stays up all night trying to catch his breath as the walls around him seem to close in.

But his brother, just next door, sleeps like a baby.

  
  
  


“Nii-san!”

Mob looks up from where he’s slipping on his shoes. It’s morning and the sun is shining outside, a nice change from the cloudy weather they’ve been having these past few days. He’s surprised Ritsu isn’t already at school. He usually has school council meetings early in the morning.

“Nii-san, wait for me. I want to walk with you this morning.”

Though it’s new, Mob doesn’t complain. He likes spending time with his brilliant little brother. “Okay, Ritsu.”

The brothers leave the house together, beginning to walk down the path towards their school. Sunlight beams down on them, their school uniforms absorbing its heat like sponges. Ritsu grips his bag with one hand over his shoulder. They walk like that, quietly, for the first few minutes before he breaks the silence.

“I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Mob turns to look at Ritsu as if to tell him he has his full attention. There’s a gentle smile on his face.

“Well, it’s about Shou,” Ritsu can’t seem to keep eye contact. He doesn’t even really know how to introduce the subject. The things Shou had said during their most recent encounter hadn’t been stuff Ritsu had expected to hear. Whether that’s a good or bad thing, he can’t decide.

Mob is concerned, but he tries his best to keep a level head. “He came over yesterday, right?”

“Yeah.” Ritsu grips his backpack a little tighter. “But he said some things.”

Without any further explanation, Mob can’t say much, so he doesn’t. Instead, he allows the blanket of silence to fall over them again, letting Ritsu take full advantage of it. He’s not a stranger to thinking things through and talking slowly. If Ritsu needs time, Mob will give him as much time as he needs.

“It’s just,” begins Ritsu, his voice interrupting the sound of their footsteps. “I’ve never heard him talk like that before.”

“Oh?” Mob doesn’t want to pressure his little brother into saying more than he’s comfortable with. He waits again, patient.

Ritsu thinks. Shou’s thoughts aren’t necessarily his to tell, so he decides against giving details. Instead, he tries to be as subtle as possible while still getting the point across: “He said some things that made me worry, but he didn’t give me any details.”

Mob understands. Ritsu’s worried and doesn’t know whether he should ask Shou about what he said. He feels there’s more to just what he’d been told, but he doesn’t know if it’s his place to question it.

“If he’s comfortable enough to give you one piece of the story, even if it was vague, that means he trusts you, Ritsu.” Mob gives his little brother’s shoulder a gentle, supportive squeeze, “If you’re wondering, you shouldn’t push it. Give him time to open up to you more. He will when he’s ready.”

Then, as a second thought, Mob adds: “Actually, it sounds like he already is.”

Mob’s advice takes a moment to sink in. Ritsu doesn’t know how he didn’t see something that’s right in front of him. Maybe Shou has never talked about his feelings before now; maybe he’d trusted Ritsu to listen to him try. His heart beats steadily in his chest, readies itself, then flourishes into a plump, healthy rose.

Yeah, that seems about right.

Ritsu stares at his older brother in admiration for a moment, then he starts to smile. He understands now that his role as Shou’s best friend is to keep him close and let him know he’s there for him. The rest is up to Shou himself.

“Thanks, Nii-san. I think I get it now.” Ritsu nods, his cheeks shining a soft pink in the daylight.

Whatever Shou is going through, he’s positive he can support him through it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> twitter: royalteruki  
> tumblr: royalteruki


	5. you and me against the world

“So, how do you plan on spending your rest day, Kageyama-kun?” Teru asks as they’re walking down the path they usually do, passed the bridge over the pond.

On school days, Teru usually waits for Mob to finish with the Body Improvement Club so he can walk home with him. It became a routine after they’d gotten closer. However, today was different because it was one of his rare days off. That meant Teru didn’t have to wait, and they (hopefully) don’t have to go straight home.

Mob has to think about it. He could go home and read some manga, or he could do his homework. Both seemed like options for normal days, though, and the way Teru was asking made this day seem like a special day. What special thing should he spend his special day doing?

“Do you want to do something, Hanazawa-kun?”

Teru isn’t expecting such a straightforward response, let alone one in the form of a question. He rubs his cheek, which is growing warmer, with a finger. “Yeah, I think that would be fun.”

Mob gives him one of his soft, small smiles. “What should we do?”

It’s Teru’s turn to brainstorm. Their usual go-to is to hang out at his apartment, make some food and either play video games or experiment with music. He decides to suggest something new: “Maybe we can watch a movie?” But he has a feeling that no matter what they discuss they’ll end up doing what they usually do, or some variation of it.

As he waits for a response from Mob, something deep in the back of his mind alerts him of a group of people some distance away. Their footsteps are too far to be heard, but he can sense they’re walking in the same direction. He resists the urge to look back in favour of continuing the conversation.

Mob puts a finger to his chin, considering the suggestion. “Do you have a movie in mind?”

“Maybe something cheesy.” Teru bumps shoulders with Mob, egging him to agree with a smirk.

Then, he hears it. Chuckling coming from behind them. Teru finally glances over his shoulder to catch sight of three boys from his school, all still dressed in their uniforms, each one having its own rebellious addition. Since he hasn’t really talked to anyone from his classes since the incident with Mob, he’s surprised. A few months ago, he would be able to recite their full names by heart; now, the delinquents behind them are just that. Delinquents.

“What kind of movies do you like?” Teru asks as he turns to face forward again. He can’t be sure that his peers are laughing at him or that they won’t walk around them when they get too close for comfort, so he lets them be.

Mob doesn’t seem phased by the laughter. When he looks up thoughtfully the way he does whenever he’s asked a question that pertains to him and his interests, Teru’s pulled into a feeling of comfort again. He loves the little Easter eggs Mob plants around him; he loves seeing him blush, scratch his chin and think heavily about simple questions that should have simple answers. It’s like an addiction, which is why he never stops searching for them.

Mob’s answering process is cut short by a voice. It’s croaky and hostile and comes from one of the boys behind them: “Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

Teru can’t say he’s surprised. He stops walking and lets out an audible sigh, turning around to face the group. Translation: I don’t have time for this.

“Are you talking to us?”

“You, in particular, Teruki Hanazawa.” The leader of the group points at the blonde with his index finger, and Teru finally gets a good look at him.

“Edano.”

“That’s Edano, Black Vinegar Middle School’s new shadow leader, to you!”

“Tsk.” Teru grits his teeth.

“Not so tough now, are you?” Edano crosses his hands over his chest, grinning widely.

“And you are?” Teru tilts his head tauntingly.  _ I shouldn’t be riling him up, but there’s a reason I forced him to resign as leader. I guess he’s holding a grudge now. _

Edano growls coldly, “What are you doing hanging out with someone like White T-Poison, anyway? Trying to climb up the ranks again?”

“Of course not,” says Teru, annoyed.

“Oh, so it’s something else, then?” The leader steps closer, sizing Teru up. He’s taller and more built and from here, the blonde can smell his bad breath.

“It’s not like that, so you can leave us alone now.”

“It’s not?” Mob says from behind him, heartbroken. His voice is so quiet that it almost doesn’t register in Teru’s mind; for a moment he thinks it may even be his conscience speaking to him. He looks over his shoulder at Mob, who’s been watching the scene unfold, the silence rippling between them like waves of an earthquake.

Teru’s so used to throwing lies around like they’re nothing. He’s used to keeping his guard up and being the tough guy. It’s instinct for him to puff up his chest and deny, deny, deny until people leave him alone. Now Mob’s standing there, victim to his pretentious behaviour, staring at him like he’s just kicked a puppy. Mob, who’s probably never had to do anything like that. Mob, who probably doesn’t understand.

The bullies snort at the scene unravelling before them. “First, you’re not our shadow leader anymore, and now you’re out playing faggot?”

Teru freezes and so does Mob. The word sounds ancient, as if it's been dug out of a grave, brushed off and used just like new. But it has permanent damage, unfixable cracks in its composition, so its history is obvious. The reason it’s been thrown into a grave is obvious too. It's brought back as a cursed artifact meant to poison the lives of innocent people around it, forced out of the ground by ignorant people wanting to cause unnecessary trouble.

“Let’s go, Hanazawa-kun,” says Mob, reaching out to take Teru’s hand. Reaching for the last piece of hope he has that maybe Teru didn’t mean what he said. Maybe there really is something between them. Maybe people like this are what’s stopping Teru from admitting it. If that’s the case, then Teru has Mob’s full support and they can get through this together and—

Teru gets shoved. Hard. The force of the push has him falling within the time it takes Mob to blink, their hands forcefully ripping away from each other. Teru yelps as his back hits the pavement, his head not far behind. His skull makes contact with the asphalt and radiates a cracking sound so gruesome that it has Mob wincing.

The unlinking of their hands is so violent that it shakes his world. He stares at his empty palm in horror, the emptiness sinking in, slow and painful.

 

**He can’t recall when everything started to lose its colour, but as the group laughs at them, the leaves of the trees, the blue in the sky and even the red on his shorts all morph into different shades of black and white. The life is ultimately sucked out of everything, leaving the world barren and cold.**

**His gaze falls onto Teru, who’s lying on his back, unresponsive. Normally glowing skin is now distorted into a pale, lifeless grey. Blood gathers on the sidewalk around his hair, the one thing that Mob can see in colour. It’s a rich bubbling red that starts at his head and mercilessly pools around his body. Teru’s bathing in it, the colourless fabric of his clothes soaking it up.**

**Mob’s eyes well with tears. He takes a step towards him with shaky legs, ruthless slurs filling his ears. He finds it hard to speak when the world seems to be swirling around him, visibly melting with every second that passes. His head spins, stomach churning at the sight of so much blood. So much blood, everywhere. So much blood, but for what?**

**Anger builds inside of him. It starts in his heart and seeps into his bloodstream, dangerously pumping through his veins. His entire body feels heavy on his feet as if he’s underwater with a weight tied to his ankle. As the tears in his eyes threaten to fall and his breathing turns shallow, he can’t help but linger deathly close to one-hundred percent.**

 

Someone grabs his hand and is yelling. He snaps back into a world of colour. Wobbly legs stumble as he’s pulled along, almost tripping but gradually gaining his leverage. When he looks ahead, he recognizes the person in front of him as Teru. Teru, who isn’t dead, but is very much alive.

“H-Hanazawa-kun,” stutters Mob, brokenly. Teru’s fast on his feet, or maybe he’s using his powers. Or maybe he’s just really good at running and dragging Mob along. Either way, he tries his best to grasp the momentum as they run. The way Teru is squeezing his hand, telling him to  _ come on _ and not leaving him behind like a lot of people would helps him regain the feeling in his legs.

He looks behind them just in time to catch a glimpse of the group of bullies. They’re struggling to make their way out of a pond. Had Teru done that? Mob doesn’t know exactly, but he has a good idea of what might have happened while he was spaced out.

His percentage dissipates for the time being. The sounds of their panting fill the air as they turn into an alleyway.

They stand there for what feels like ages, holding their breaths with their backs pressed against the bricks. Fortunately, the group of now-wet and dripping bullies run past the alleyway and miss them.

Mob’s finally able to sink to the ground and take in everything that’s happened. He looks at his shaky palms. He blinks and they turn blurry. He’s crying again, his heart wrenching in his chest, his brain unable to believe there were people cruel enough to bring him back to Mogami’s world.

Above him, Teru is checking if the coast is clear. When he hears what sounds like a sob from behind him, he immediately turns his attention to Mob. “Oh, no,” says the blonde, getting onto his knees. “No, no, no. It’s okay, Kageyama-kun. They’re gone.”

Mob chokes on a sob and coughs, tears running down his cheeks. He doesn’t have it in himself to respond or explain. His chest is heavy as he tries to breathe. His body is curling in on itself, searching for comfort, begging for stability. Anything that will make him feel grounded, even if it’s just for a moment.

Teru hesitates, then gathers the broken boy into his arms. He holds Mob’s head to his shoulder and steadies him as the sobs wrack through his entire body. “It’s okay,” he tells him quietly. “It’s all okay.”

He’s never seen Mob in such a state of brokenness. He’s a mess of limbs in his arms, powerless and unable to hold himself together. If Teru were to let go, he feels like Mob would fall apart.

Suddenly, Mob’s hair starts to glow with a pink aura, floating up on its ends.

 

_ 80%. _

 

A psychic barrier forms around them, but not at its usual quick pace. It grows gradually, starting from the top of their heads and spreading to the floor, and glows a soft pink.

 

_ 90%. _

 

Layers upon layers follow the first and Teru watches them form with awe, wondering about their unusual colour and boldness. They make like a puzzle, piece by piece, not missing a beat. And soon, they’re engulfed in a bubble so strong not even the cars passing can be heard inside it.

 

_ 95% _

 

All that’s left is him, Mob and the sounds of his softer sobs.

 

**_100% love_ ** _. _

 

Though he’ll never admit it, Teru feels his own tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. They spill over onto his cheeks as he holds Mob closer, continuing to mumble shaky reassurances between them.

They’re safe and warm and, “They can’t hurt you anymore,” promises Teru. And he means it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: royalteruki (prompts are open so you can request somethin if you'd like!)  
> twitter: royalteruki
> 
> i apologize for the late updates, i'm still travelling. i have an idea where i want this story to go and i'm currently writing an outline for it, but i would like to know your thoughts as well. if you wanna, you can comment what you'd like to see, particular ships you want more info on, or characters, or situations. i just wanna hear your thoughts! thanks for reading <3


	6. quiet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mob helps Teru with his head injury.

“Ow!”

“Sorry!” Mob squeaks with diffidence. He’s standing behind Teru with a roll of bandages in his hands. Or what used to be a roll of bandages. Now they’re unravelled, tangled around his elbows and stretching all the way down to the bathroom floor. He’s never had the best hand-eye coordination.

“It’s okay,” Teru breathes deeply from his spot on an old bar stool next to the sink. He closes his eyes as Mob wrestles with his hair. It’s not as short as it used to be, having grown out almost half an inch since the city had been destroyed. His head bobs with every tug and pull; Mob apologizes every so often behind him.

The medicine cabinet is open, evident it's been rummaged through. It's a miracle Mob hasn't face planted into it considering how cramped the space is. The window near the ceiling lets in some broken sunlight that creates a rigid pattern along their shoulders; despite the haphazard light, the tiny bathroom is still hot. But the beams are something Mob’s grateful for after their dreadful walk to Teru’s apartment when he was still trapped between the wooden wall of his trauma and the bricks of reality. It would be easier to enjoy if Teru's head wasn't bleeding, though.

“Um, there,” Mob finally says after an inordinate amount of time spent wrapping and unwrapping the bandages. “Is it too tight?”

“No, it’s fine.” Teru straightens his back and feels around the perimeter of his bandaged head. He sighs in relief, then starts to chuckle lightheartedly. “I really do have a thick skull, don’t I?”

Mob takes Teru’s laughter as a cue to smirk himself, but it fades quickly. Soon there’s nothing but silence between them.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Mob eventually says in a small voice.

Teru feels an awkward palm on his back, right between his shoulder blades. Although any sort of touches are rare, touches like these are almost unheard of. He can feel the esper consciously feeding him his aura, the energy starting in his back then pulsing through his shoulders and hips steadily. Teru knows it’s not because he’s in need of the energy; it’s an act of solidarity, Mob’s way of showing him he cares.

Teru spins around to face Mob and takes a moment to steady himself on the stool. Mob’s palm is left floating, its psychic aura crackling and steaming into the air.

“Thanks, Kageyama-kun,” says Teru, softly. Mob takes that as his cue to lower his hand. He offers a nod in return, the tint to his cheeks being the only giveaway he’s not disinterested.

Another round of silence embraces them. This time it’s not awkward, but welcomed, even  _ needed _ , after what they’ve been through. Mob stands there, gaze averted, not knowing where to look. His aura is warm, hinting that he’s thankful for the company.

Teru holds out his hand, palm upturned. This catches Mob’s attention, giving him something to focus on, and he’s perplexed,  unsure what to do with it. He hesitates, detaches his hand from where it’d been glued to his side, and drops it into Teru’s. Warm fingers close around Mob’s hand before he’s offered the other, and he finds refuge in the foreign territory.

Then, Mob feels his hands being pulled, egging him closer. Teru lets go and Mob nearly falls onto him, but he catches himself before he does. It’s strange being so close to someone who means so much to him, and it’s difficult to melt into the motion at first. A few moments of fidgeting pass before his hands find a position around Teru’s neck and his fingers thread together comfortably.

“Is this okay?” Teru’s hands are hovering over Mob’s hips.

They meet each other’s eyes and Mob nods. The hands rest on his hips and gradually, as if he’s made of glass, wrap around his waist. Teru strains his neck to look up at his crush, his cheeks too stubborn to blush. Instead, he’s smirking happily, hoping to get the same giddiness from Mob, or whatever variation he can give him.

“Oh,” Mob murmurs, speechless. His heart is beating fast in his chest, making it hard to breathe. It’s different from the breathlessness he feels before fainting during a running session with the Body Improvement Club; it’s exhilarating like he’s desperately anticipating something, but he doesn’t know what it is.

They’re so close he can feel Teru’s breath on his collar bone, and his fingers pressing ever-so delicately into his shirt. Their auras twist and dance together in the sunlight, becoming a mixture of yellows and purples. When he starts to lean forward, their noses nearly brushing, Mob moves his head back abruptly.

“Wait.”

“What?” Teru asks, concerned.

Mob’s throat is dry. He swallows, but it doesn’t help. “Did you mean what you said?”

It’s so sudden Teru can’t put a finger on what Mob’s referring to. He tilts his head, confused.

“About us not being like  _ that _ .”

“Oh.” One of Teru’s hands moves from Mob’s side, leaving the area cold in its wake. It gestures wildly in the air as he responds, “I only said that so they would leave us alone. I didn’t want them to hurt you.”

To Mob, who feels hot and dizzy with adoration, who’s finding it hard to breathe in this tiny bathroom. To Mob, who’s had crushes but never acted on them, who’s never been in a deserving enough place to act on them. To Mob, who’s never had someone initiate anything with him, who’s never had more attention than a leaf that’s fallen from a tree and is finally being acknowledged. To he who feels as if he’s been planted in the ground by someone who’s patiently waiting for him to sprout into something beautiful. The deprivation swallows him whole, acts as his friend, begs him to finish what he started.

To Mob, it sounds like a perfectly fine explanation.

Teru’s warm hand returns to its place on Mob’s hip and he leans forward again. “Now, where were we?”

Before their lips touch, Teru stops, and Mob can feel his warm breath against his. “Is this okay?” As if the slow progression and sudden halt isn’t enough — and it isn’t. Mob’s heart swells in his chest; Teru’s  _ asking _ and it makes all the difference for Mob. Someone who doesn’t have a good reputation with people. Someone who’s unable to read the room.

“Yes,” he responds, hopeful.

When their lips meet, the colours of the bathroom become bright with wonder and the ground beneath them turns into clouds. Mob can feel everything and nothing all at once. He’s become numb to the negativity, filled to the brim with optimism. Maybe Teru really hadn’t meant what he had said in front of the bullies, maybe he really was trying to protect him from a disapproving world.

The kiss itself is uncharted territory; Mob’s mind goes into overdrive and he feels strange. Holding hands or hugging is one thing because arms and hands are meant for touching; lips touching is something to get used to. He focuses on what’s important instead of the physical discomfort, and that’s what’s behind the kiss.

They like each other. They like each other enough to touch lips.

“Wow,” Mob mumbles when Teru pulls back. The closeness is growing on him now, it doesn’t feel as strange as it initially did.

“Wow?” Teru chuckles, amused at the reaction. “Is that a good  _ wow _ or a bad  _ wow? _ ”

“I think it’s a good one.” Mob doesn’t mention how weird he thinks kissing is.

“You think?” Teru tilts his head before a lightbulb goes off in his brain. “Wait, was that your first kiss?”

“Was it that obvious?” Mob squeaks, distraught.

“Mostly,” Teru admits, smiling.

“Oh.” Mob’s eyes start to dart from wall to wall again.

“Hey, it’s okay. There’s a first time for everything, right?” Teru smiles wider, squeezing Mob’s waist reassuringly.

Mob guesses so, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Besides, you’re strong. I know you’ll get the hang of it, Kageyama-kun.” Teru leans up to press an encouraging kiss to Mob’s cheek, who genuinely smiles in return. It’s a smile that dares to stretch from one of his ears to the other.

Maybe lips are meant for touching, too.

“There it is, there’s that smile,” Teru says, gently, and Mob thinks he’s in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: royalteruki  
> twitter: royalteruki


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